


laugh ‘til you cry (cry ‘til you laugh)

by ohallows



Series: podcast girls week 2020 [5]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Catharsis, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, coda to episode 160, discussions of loss/grief/guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25183786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohallows/pseuds/ohallows
Summary: Loss can be a funny thing, sometimes.
Relationships: Azu & Amelia Earhart
Series: podcast girls week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820245
Comments: 6
Kudos: 17
Collections: Podcast Girls Week





	laugh ‘til you cry (cry ‘til you laugh)

Loss is… a funny thing. It’s hard to define, hard to  _ quantify,  _ because how do you define the absence of something? How do you define the now-blank space where someone used to be? It’s nothing but empty space, but everything is empty space, so one more bit of it isn’t  _ that  _ out of the ordinary, after all. One more hole in the center of your universe, just one more absence that you feel deep in your chest. One more space for your heart to slip out to, to leave a piece of itself behind in. 

The loss is… well, it’s strange, because the holes can’t be  _ filled  _ properly, after that. There are two holes where there used to be friends, used to be  _ family,  _ and you’re left wondering what you did and where they went and you fill the gods damned holes as much as you can with tasks and memories and experiences until you  _ remember  _ and then it’s like the holes never disappeared for a second. It all comes rushing back and snatches the few moments of peace you had from your too-weak grip, tears everything out of the holes to make room for even more empty space. 

It’s about the empty space, of course. Loss, that is. It’s not even about the  _ person,  _ sometimes, but about the  _ absence  _ of what used to be there. That’s what hurts. 

The grief is reserved for the person, for mourning who they were, who they could have been. What they  _ were  _ to you, family, lover, friend… even if it had remained unspoken for so long. Grief is... ugly and messy and it washes over you like a wave, crashing down around your ears until you have no idea which way is up or down or left or right anymore, until you’re drowning without hope of rescue or survival.

And then you surface, and you carry on, and it gets  _ easier  _ but it never truly leaves. Not even if you were to live multiple lifetimes and have a new love, a new family in each one. 

Loss is… well, it’s heavily entwined with grief, of course. Hand in hand, one in the other. Whether someone died or just left or just forgot about you or just moved on, grief and loss never leave your side when you think about them. 

The loss is the cruelest part of it all. 

Because it’s  _ absence.  _ It doesn’t  _ exist.  _ It’s the lack of existence, and that’s why it’s cruel. Because it lets you forget. 

The grief is always there. It never leaves; it sits in your chest like a weight and even though it ebbs and flows like the tide, you always feel it. Loudly or quietly, ever-present or lurking in the back of your head… the grief is there. It’s impossible to push down to a point where you don’t feel it anymore.

But the loss… it’s easy to push that away, to ignore  _ what _ you lost even if the  _ grief  _ of losing  _ something  _ never truly leaves you. It’s easy to forget what occupied those spaces before they began to become what you thought of as familiar. 

And Azu does forget, sometimes. Forgets that Grizzop and Sasha aren’t there, forgets that there isn’t a shadow at her back waiting to strike the next enemy that comes near, forgets that there won’t be an arrow flying almost too close to her face when she isn’t fast enough. It’s… gods, it’s been about a month since then, since they all held hands and begged and prayed to whatever gods might still be listening to bring them all home safe. Well, Azu prayed. She doesn’t know about the others, but  _ she  _ prayed. It hadn’t done anything, in the end. The gods hadn’t been able to reach any of them in Rome, thanks to whatever wild magic is running free there. 

It’s been one month. 

One month since they’d been running around desperately trying to find their families in the hellscape that was Hades’ domain. One month since Azu felt Eldarion step away from the circle and join her and Grizzop’s hands together. One month since they were spat out onto the dusty floor of a palace in Rome that never deserved to be a final resting place. One month since Azu and Hamid looked at each other through the throng and truly understood what they’d lost.

One month.

It’s strange, how time moves. How days can feel like years and decades can feel like nothing more than the blink of an eye. In the Hades plane, it had felt like seconds, and then they had come back, and  _ months  _ had passed and the entire  _ world  _ had broken. And now there are  _ thousands  _ of years between them and Sasha and Grizzop. All because of a single spell. She can still feel it, can feel Grizzop’s hand  _ slipping  _ out of hers as she couldn’t - 

“Thought you were supposed to be helping me build a ship?” she hears, and snaps out of her thoughts as she glances up to see Amelia standing… well, not over her, even though Azu is sitting, but definitely at eye level. 

“My apologies,” she says, and stands as quickly as she’s able, armor clanging against the sides of the ship. “I was… lost in thought. What do you need me to do?”

Amelia considers her for a moment, and then snorts. “No offense, Azu, but I was mostly just teasing. Cel went off for lunch and I’m putting together some pretty delicate parts, so.”

“Oh! I understand,” Azu says, giving her a bit of a guilty smile. She’s not the most… delicate person at the best of times, and they’re on such a constrained schedule that Azu removed herself (and Zolf) from helping with this bit of the job, just to avoid any potential delays. “Was there something else you needed? I can… lift… things?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I didn’t come over to talk to you because I needed something from you. You just… looked like you had something eating at your mind,” Amelia explains. “We don’t need another person on this ship locked up in their own head. Hell, I think Cel and Hamid are the only two who  _ aren’t  _ at this point.”

Azu would be a bit more offended if Amelia didn’t sound genuinely concerned, even if that concern was couched in a careful nonchalance. For the most part, Amelia is blunt, and fractious at the best of times, and she’s nearly singlemindedly focused on revenge, but she’s probably the best out of their little group (other than Azu herself) at  _ really  _ understanding other people and how they’re feeling. It hadn’t been what Azu had expected from her, but she supposes that it makes sense, being such a successful airship captain for so long.

It hurts to think about how affected Amelia was when they found her. She’s been getting markedly better the closer they’ve gotten to takeoff, and Azu thinks Cel has had no small part in getting her spirits back up. It’s still too easy to imagine how sallow her cheeks had been, how she’d reeked of alcohol even after having a bath, the look on her face as she’d steadily gone through and marked off all the members of her crew. But she’s looking much healthier, nowadays, and while Azu knows that she has a rough road ahead of her, she thinks Amelia will be okay in the end. She hopes so, at least.

“Thank you,” Azu finally says. “I sometimes… get stuck in my thoughts, and don’t realise how long it’s been until someone pulls me out of them.”

“Well,” Amelia says, with a deprecating smile on her face, “seems I’m good for one thing, at least.”

Azu immediately shakes her head. “You’ve been incredibly helpful over this week, Amelia,” she says, and Amelia scoffs.

“You’re sweet to say so, but I know the truth of it,”

she says. “And I’m not looking for reassurance. I was a mess all this week until yesterday. I’m not  _ ashamed  _ of it or anything. It’s just the way things are.”

Azu doesn’t agree, not even slightly, but Amelia doesn’t seem particularly receptive to that right now, so she tucks it away in the box in her mind that’s full of things to discuss when they have time. It joins a long list - ‘talk to Zolf about his brother’, ‘find out what Cel meant about bad relationships’, and ‘address the fireball that Hamid cast on the kobolds’ is up there in terms of importance, and she neatly slides it right in next to those. 

She doesn’t push; it’s something she’s been getting better at, slowly. Just letting things lie, understanding that her help isn’t always welcome. If only Healer Fairhands could see her now. 

They lapse into a brief silence, Amelia going back to tinkering with the engine while Azu sits nearby, solidly out of the way and watching curiously. Amelia works for a moment more, slightly strained grunts coming from underneath the engine, and then pushes herself back out, sitting up. There’s a streak of grease or oil or  _ something  _ down her face, but she doesn’t seem that bothered as she pulls her hair back and out of her face. She sits back against the engine, looking tired, and drops the wrench she had been using to go to town on it on the ground. 

“So. Sasha?” Amelia asks, out of nowhere, and it comes out too casual to actually be so. “Noticed she wasn’t with you. Figured I’d ask.”

Azu starts a bit; she’d quite forgotten that Amelia would know Sasha, in the whole furor of everything going on around them. It was a piece of information that had slowly migrated to the back of her mind with each passing day where Amelia hadn’t mentioned her. But now, it had come roaring back to the forefront, and Azu could feel the pain start up as she swallowed and nodded, centering herself as best she could.

“We… lost her,” she says slowly, and it still hurts like a dull ache in her chest even now that she knows Sasha was alright in the end, that she built herself a home and a family and was happy. That kind of pain never really goes away, does it? It just becomes… easier to bear, over time. Goes from a sharp stabbing knife in your gut to a twinge every time your mind catches on their name. “And another member of our team.”

Amelia is quiet for a moment, staring off into the distance. “Sorry to hear that,” she says, and Azu stares up at the sky as she wills no tears to fall. “Sasha was… good.” 

“She was,” Azu says, open and honest and feelings laid bare.

“I asked Zolf first, you know,” Amelia murmurs, looking almost guilty as she glances up at Azu. “About Sasha, I mean. A few days ago.”

“I’m sure he didn’t take it well,” Azu says, and Amelia laughs, hollow and dry.

“Walked out of the room without saying a word,” Amelia says. “Figured it had to have been something… less than ideal. You. Don’t have to tell me the story. I’m sure you live it enough, in your head.”

Azu doesn't have to wonder how Amelia knows that her dreams are full of it. It happens less often, now, nearly two months later, but she still sees Sasha and Grizzop being lost in her nightmares, watches as shadows pull them away as Azu stands there, helpless and unable to move. “I am… willing to talk about it,” she says, hesitant. “But now may not be the best time.”

Amelia just shrugs. “Hey. I’m here if you need.”

Azu nods, a bit stilted even though she is thankful for the offer. 

“Amelia... I do know how it feels to lose people,” Azu says, and swallows around the lump in her throat. “Even if our losses were different. I know how the guilt settles in your chest and refuses to leave. How you keep turning the decisions over and over in your mind, wondering what you could do differently…” The feeling of Grizzop’s hand slipping out of hers, her trying to grab him but missing as he fell away, away, away. She shakes her head. “At some point… you need to forgive yourself, before you can move on.”

Amelia gives her a critical look. “Have you forgiven  _ yourself?” _

Azu opens her mouth, and then slowly closes it again, realising that she doesn’t know how her answer is going to go. Amelia nods, as though that’s exactly what she expected, and moves on, tinkering with a few more things on the side of the engine. Azu lets herself step back until her shoulders rest against the side of the engine room, thinking. 

She knows forgiveness will come eventually; if Grizzop were here, he’d be berating her for beating herself up over this, and Azu knows that he wouldn’t stand for it for a moment. But she’s  _ not  _ Grizzop, and that means that she has to struggle with the guilt a bit longer. 

Someday, she will be able to forgive herself. To let the guilt go as much as she’s able to, to realise that she can’t dwell on the what-if’s and simply… accept the situation as it is. She isn’t there yet, but… someday. 

“Thank you, Azu,” Amelia says, cutting once more into her thoughts, and Azu turns to look at her. Amelia is staring right at her, not balking at the eye contact like so many would be. “I realised that I haven’t said that yet. I don’t thank many people, but you’ve been… unendingly patient and kind. Even when I’ve been… a bit of an ass.”

Azu shakes her head. “You were grieving.  _ Are  _ grieving. I am not going to fault you for that.”

Amelia continues staring, looking at Azu as though she’s trying to read her but struggling to.

“What?” Azu asks, feeling self-conscious all of a sudden.

“You’re just… good, Azu,” Amelia comments, smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “It’s kind of refreshing, actually.”

“I like to help people,” Azu says honestly, and Amelia snorts. 

“I’m sure Sasha had no clue what to do with you,” she teases, and there’s a hint of real, genuine spark in her voice as she says it. 

Azu tries to contain her smile and can’t, mouth stretching wide in a grin. “She was a bit confused, yes.”

Amelia shakes her head. “That girl. I’m sure you were good for her. She deserves - deserved - to have people like you and Zolf around, who wouldn’t for a second let her think she wasn’t wanted. Even Hamid really seemed to care for her, and I didn’t know this Grizzop fellow, but based on what you and Hamid have said, he seemed to have been the same.”

“He was,” Azu says, and the lump in her throat is back again. “And she did deserve that. She deserved to have a family.”

“... I think you gave her that,” Amelia says. “I don’t know - you know, the whole situation, or anything, but from the stories I’ve heard and how you all talk about her… yeah. Think you did.”

Azu can’t help the tears sliding down her face this time, and doesn’t even bother wiping at her cheeks. “I hope so,” she says, voice thick with tears and sorrow, and Amelia scoots a little closer to pat her on the elbow - the highest bit of Azu she can feasibly reach. They remain there for a moment, silently comforting each other, but before long Amelia moves away with a slightly awkward cough, not making eye contact with Azu anymore.

“She should be nearly ready to fly,” Amelia announces, laying a gentle hand on the engine as she stares at it fondly. “Old girl doesn’t have as much juice in her as the ship I’m used to, but it’ll be up for whatever needs doing. Just need to check in with Cel, see how the rest of the ship’s doing. But, best guess? We should be in the air tomorrow or the day after.”

“Oh! That’s wonderful news!” Azu says, beaming. They’ve been stuck in port for about a week now, and while Hiroshima is a lovely place to be, she can sense how antsy everyone else is getting. It’s easy to forget the virus here, when there’s so many people out and about; they do have a mission, though, and the sooner they get started the sooner they can… save the world, Azu supposes. 

Amelia leads her up on deck, and it’s almost a shock to see how  _ normal  _ the ship looks. When Skraak had purchased it, it had been little more than scrap metal bent into the shape of a ship, but Cel and the kobolds have really been doing a lot of work on it. It looks amazing, now, just like the airships that Azu’s seen in books.

“She needs a name,” Azu murmurs, running a hand over the wooden railing of the ship. 

“She does, at that,” Amelia says, forehead pulling together in concentration. They stand there for a moment in quiet as both of them think. 

“What about…  _ Knife’s Edge?” _ Azu suggests, turning to look at Amelia. It’s - it’s not  _ subtle,  _ or anything, but Azu isn’t trying to be. Amelia takes a moment, and glances around the ship. She doesn’t respond, and Azu feels her pulse jump in embarrassment. “We don’t have to - we can just -“

Azu cuts herself off as Amelia holds up a single hand; she turns to face Azu with a smile on her face and damp eyes. 

“It’s  _ perfect _ .”

**Author's Note:**

> hey. rqg160 fucked so hard like. what a PERFECT episode goddamn. i love zolf and azu so much like they really are the emotional core of the show and yes i’ve talked abt this multiple times but. i love them. the only dynamic that even comes close to them is zolf and sasha which will always be my number 1 yes i'm biased i know but still
> 
> this changed wildly from what i was gonna do so. here? i guess? we got real introspective on this one.


End file.
